


Hostage

by coppercaps



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: F/M, Hostage Situations, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 09:55:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20387830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coppercaps/pseuds/coppercaps
Summary: Feeling confident, Jax motioned Chibs to kick open the unlocked metal door - just for the hell of it - and in swarmed the gang, guns drawn, ready to do this quick and dirty and go about their day afterwards. It wasn’t all that surprising that, instead of seeing the man standing right in the middle of the entrance with raised hands and begging for mercy, they were facing an empty space between high shelves full of boxes and stuff not worth noticing. Neither were they startled by the rustling sounds coming from the far end of the warehouse, giving away the presumable location of their man. So they followed the sound, guns ready.None of the Sons of Anarchy expected their day to get fucked up this bad, this fast.





	Hostage

**Author's Note:**

> Please acknowledge the warnings and do not read if any of this makes you uncomfortable.
> 
> The bad guy is an OC because I struggled to make this fit into the series’ plot line.  
Also English isn’t my first language and Chibs’ lovely dialect gave me a bit of an headache so sorry for any mistakes.

The operation had been simple, really. Some aspiring but tragically benighted Aryan Brotherhood men had stolen a bunch of weapons from a SAMCRO delivery. It hadn’t taken much time to find the guys and guns and correct the wrong. Unfortunately, one of men had been notably absent from the group. Being as conscientious as they were, Jax, Chibs, Tig and Bobby refrained from calling it a day early and went after the unfortunate soul which they were informed to be hanging out at a warehouse not too far away from where they collected their astray delivery.

With their thoughts more than halfway at the bottom of their well deserved after-work beer, they didn’t worry too much about the task at hand. Their sources had reliably confirmed that this man called Cross would be alone in the warehouse. Cross, as in “he’s got all sorts of Nazi symbolism tattooed all over his bald head in the form of an Iron Cross”. Whatever it was with these people and their aversion for everyone who produces more melanin than them.

Once they were only a couple of minutes away from the house, the brothers decided to gear up rather scarcely this time. Only the most necessary stuff. They were four against one, after all, and didn’t expect their opponent to be equipped with more than a bunch of AKs or some kind of pistols. And even if he had more, the guy was still only two-handed and could operate only so many weapons at a time. 

“What could possibly go wrong?”, Jax asked as they headed for the main entrance.  
“I don’t know. Everything or nothing?”, Tig joked, his tone as blithe as ever.

Feeling confident, the blonde motioned Chibs to kick open the unlocked metal door - just for the hell of it - and in swarmed the gang, guns drawn, ready to do this quick and dirty and go about their day afterwards. It wasn’t all that surprising that, instead of seeing Cross standing right in the middle of the entrance with raised hands and begging for mercy, they were facing an empty space between high shelves full of boxes and stuff not worth noticing. Neither were they startled by the rustling sounds coming from the far end of the warehouse, giving away the presumable location of their man. So they followed the sound, guns pointed.

None of the Sons of Anarchy expected their day to get fucked up this bad, this fast.

Their source had been right about one thing; Cross wasn’t accompanied by another Aryan Brotherhood member. However, he wasn’t alone. Instead, he had a woman with him – a woman with an all too familiar face, distorted in pain and an entirely unfamiliar vacant look in her reddened eyes.

“Hostage-“  
“Don’t shoot!”, interrupted SAMCRO’s Vice President with a shout as his heart skipped a beat.

He wouldn’t have needed to see her face for he would’ve recognised his kneeling Old Lady by the form of her body alone. But never had he wished to see this body he adored and loved so much in a situation like this; Unclothed, battered, in the hands of an enemy.  
Chibs’ stomach sank at the implication of previous actions his love might have had endured.

“I recommend you listen to the man or you’ll have to scratch this pretty lady’s brain off the floor”, threatened Cross and nudged his Colt against the woman’s temple.  
She knelt, her body held upright by a grip on her hair alone. Through tears she seemed to have held back, she briefly took in the situation before locking eyes with Chibs. Although it had her swaying slightly in Cross' tight grasp, she pressed together her legs and rose her shaking right arm to cover her chest in a futile attempt to preserve at least some modesty and shield her exposed body from the shocked glances of her Old Man’s brothers.

“Filip… Help me”, she whispered, voice raspy from overuse and each syllable at struggle with her hitching, erratic breath. 

It was unwise of her to declare her familiarity with the club like that. Given the circumstances, no one would blame her though. However, it did become rather obvious that, apparently, Cross hadn’t known this tiny little detail before.

“Oh? She your whore or something?”, he questioned and the hissed “Don’t ye dare calling ‘er that” he received as an response that closed the gap.  
“An Old Lady then.”

“Everyone lower your guns”, Jax ordered.  
Although he seemed to be just as stunned and angry as everyone else, he stepped up to his position as the President of SAMCRO and at least attempted to lead it to an outcome that would not leave one of his brothers mourning the death of his Old Lady like he himself had done before.  
Reluctant, but aware of the stakes at hand, everyone but Cross engaged the safety of their guns, lowered their arms and threw them a good couple of feet away.

Y/N winced at the loud clacking noises of the weapons hitting the ground and with them, her hope to escape this misery fast being thrown away as well. Desperation crawled up in her consciousness, the emotion becoming abundantly clear in the way her glassy eyes filled up with tears once more and hell knows, Chibs wanted to tear apart that Nazi bastards right then, right there, with is own bare hands. 

But any heedless action could mean the death of his love.  
His thoughts were foggy with emotions, too cloudy to think clearly and come up with a plan to get her out. But maybe he could at least detach her a little bit from the disquieting reality until _someone, fast_ would come up with a plan and end this fucker soon.  
“Look at me lass. Just keep yer eyes on me. We’ll get ye outta here”, Chibs promised in a hushed tone, hoping that, if she concentrated on him, it would make things at least a little more bearable. 

It took him surprisingly much energy to relax his features and put on a reassuring mask, for her, that wouldn’t betray his thoughts and reveal all the colourful expletives he was mentally throwing at Cross.  
It took even more out of him to not break at the pain that he saw lying underneath the haze of a broken woman mirrored in Y/N’s eyes.  
The urge to let Cross feel every single torture technique Chibs has ever heard of became almost unbearable.  
But instead of following it, he, in his mind, tried to dig up all of the five months worth of medical knowledge he gained when he was serving under the Queen’s flag. To be productive. To be prepared. _Concentrate_, he thought, his own voice in his head strained with a whole new kind of exertion, _she needs ye.  
_With all the mental strength he could muster barely being enough to get his eyes to react, he averted his gaze to analyse the state of the _beautiful, soft, I swear I will kill this fucker_\- body before him. 

Her form was littered in spots of pink and angry red, bruises that would eventually turn blue and green and fade over the time. _She fought._ Abrasions on her shins, knees, elbows, lower arms _Did he drag ‘er over the ground?_ that still seeped tiny drops through patches of already dried blood. Her left arm hung limply from her side, the odd bulge on her shoulder promising a dislocation of the joint. It was terrible, but what truly pushed a sense of urgency through his veins were the dark purple bruises that spread over her ribs and the side of her abdomen like a grotesque map of mistreatment that had been brought upon her. Judging by the her other wounds, _not older than a few minutes, perhaps an hour_, bruising this bad this fast _might be internal bleeding. Too much evidence here, ambulance will bring police, I’ll drive myself._

Somewhere below the layers of his consciousness, Chibs had already been aware of the light, smeared traces of blood on the ground where she’d sat a few moments ago. The Scotsman took a short moment, a fraction of a second that felt like an eternity in his own mind, to really look at the spots on the dirty concrete and let that view release a wave of equanimity to wash over him.  
Once he’ll be done with this man, he will be begging for the mercy of death.

“Come on man, drop your gun. This is just between you and us. She’s got nothing to do with this”, Jax reasoned, although the undertone in his voice already hinted that he didn’t expect the man to actually throw away his weapon and go down without a fight.  
Instead of following Jax’s plea, Cross adjusted his grip on Y/N’s hair and pressed the gun harder against her skull, tearing open an already scabbed-over cut along her hairline. Blood runs down the side of her face in thin rivulets, mingling with the traces of shed tears. “Bullshit. An Old Lady’s got everything to do with this. And I ain’t seeing no reason not to have her join this party.”

Chibs noticed the triumphant glare upon himself, felt rather than saw how Cross bathed in his anger, in the way every fibre of his body is tightly wound like a string about to rip.   
For the Sons, the situation seemed rather hopeless. Their guns were strewn about the ground, drawing additional weapons hidden beneath layers of clothing would take too much time, allow Cross to pull the trigger and end the life that, to Chibs, was worth more than his own. The haughty expression on his face proofed that Cross was well aware of his chances to live another day. 

“It’s ok, you won. See?” Slowly, Jax lowered himself, going down on one knee.   
Shocked expressions met his suspiciously collected one. The blonde gestured his brothers to follow suit with a nod, resting his gaze on each member until every single one kneeled along with him.  
“There surely is a second exit in this house. You can leave. Take her with you. You know as long as you have her, we won’t follow or shoot you.”

Panic gripped Y/N, her eyes darting back and forth between Jax and Chibs with a horrified expression. “No, please, please don’t, ple-“ “Shut up!”, Cross shouted and slid down the barrel of the gun to her throat, pressing the cool metal right against her aorta to silence the woman to nothing more than choked sobs.

Almost giving in to the reflex to reach out and jump towards Y/N, Chibs grabbed Jax’ arm instead with more force than he would usually dare to bring upon his President. “What the hell are ye doing?!”  
“There’s nothing we can do that won’t kill her. Maybe you want to say goodbye, Chibs. I’m sorry”, came the stern reply.He peered at Chibs in a silent apology, then let his gaze wander over Tig and and Bobby to Y/N herself.  
“Just hold on darling. I know you can do it.”

And then he realised that, of course, _of fucking course_, Jax had a plan. And if the Scotsman understood right…  
“I know this is hard but I’m sure ye can hold on. Just stay with him a little longer, we will come and find ye. A’ight? Do what he wants and ye’ll be fine. Give us some days, maybe weeks, but we’ll come and get ye.”

It pained him to speak the words but they had exactly the effect that he dreaded but aimed for.  
Fresh tears spilled from Y/N’s eyes, her already hasted breathing becoming erratic and she shook her head No in small movements as she mumbled, desperately, over and over, “He will kill me, please don’t give me up.”

A sharp pain on her head disrupted her mumbling as Cross started to drag her away by her hair. Sheer panic overcame her. In one last, desperate attempt to break free, she started to struggle against Cross, screaming and crying and pulling away from him, away towards Chibs, towards the man she loved and trusted and if she died here and now please let his touch and his voice be her last sensation that would guide her to the other side. A brutal grip on her throat pulled her mind free of the fog of pure adrenaline. She didn’t see the gun coming down on her, didn’t anticipate the collision of the polished metal with her tear-streaked face as her eyes were fixed on nothing but the pained expression of her lover.

What happened then happened too fast for Chibs to participate in. While his mind still screamed at him _do something, help, just MOVE_, Tig drew the gun he wore securely fixed to his leg and aimed for Cross’ raised arm. The bullet hit home and when the gun came down on Y/N, the sudden pain stunned the Aryan Brotherhood member long enough for Jax and Bobby to lunge out and wrestle the man down, effectively separating him from his gun and his hostage at the same time.   
Instinctively, Chibs launched himself towards to Y/N, pulling her into his arms and turning with her away from Cross. Shielding her with his body that, even if Cross managed to break free and attack once again, he wouldn’t be able to harm Y/N without going through him first, in every single sense of the word. 

The Scotsman ignored the sounds of struggling, the curses and dull blows behind him as he kneeled on the ground, his entire world narrowed down on the woman in his arms. The feeling of Y/N’s shaking form had him awkwardly strip his vest without a thought, his body acting on its own to provide comfort to his love and shield her from everything that had happened and was still taking place around them. Later, much later, in a calm moment after he’d know Y/N save and recovering and after he’d have had his revenge, Chibs would muse about the instinct to wrap his woman up in his vest like a symbolism for having her protected under the wing of the crow. But for now, the leather aided in spending warmth and shielding her from the chilly air in the warehouse as well as glances at parts of her body that were usually reserved for him only. To give her a sense of protection and privacy and _it’s over thank god she’s alive_.

“It’s ok now Y/N, I got ye. Yer with me now, yer save”, he whispered against her skin, partially to reassure her that all this was indeed over now, the threat gone and removed from them as he spoke, partially to calm his own nerves. Ungloved fingers combed through her hair, removing the strands from her face so he could have a look at her, check and really confirm that she is as alright as she could be, giving the circumstances. Their eyes lock for the fraction of a second before she buried her face in the nape of his neck, to breath in his scent and feel his warmth and simply have him holding her while she quietly wept away the acute shock of what had just occurred.

Minutes passed while the waves of relief slowly ebbed away and gave way to the clearness necessary to tackle the tasks at hand. Tig had rustled up a blanket from somewhere and while they wrapped Y/N in it and carried her away, out of the warehouse and to definitive safety, where she would receive medical attention and privacy and could start healing, Chibs couldn’t help the underlying feeling of mourning that was slowly creeping in his consciousness.   
He had seen in Y/N’s eyes that no amount of pills, talks, time and revenge would ever give back what Cross had forcefully taken from them.


End file.
